


first kiss; jaeco

by complex_andhera, fujoshi-senpaii (complex_andhera)



Category: Block B, K-pop
Genre: M/M, jaeco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complex_andhera/pseuds/complex_andhera, https://archiveofourown.org/users/complex_andhera/pseuds/fujoshi-senpaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a/n: damn you jaehyo you got this apink’s no no no stuck in my head</p><p>prompt: first kiss; jiho falls asleep in the studio, and jaehyo realizes he’s in love with him</p><p>summary: jiho is the evening breeze, and jaehyo gets lost in the moment</p>
            </blockquote>





	first kiss; jaeco

the first time jaehyo kisses jiho is in the middle of the freezing winter, when both of them are enveloped in the suffocating warmth of seven seasons recording studio. all jaehyo can remember is that jiho’s lips look like little pink, puckered goldfish, he had them open and he was dozing, his head tilted back cutely and-

and at that part of the story, jiho will scrowl-

jiho, with his eyeliner painted so dark he looks ferocious, his cheeks accentuated to hardened lines and impossibly sharp, like a hardened gangbanger who lives and breathes in the violence of the streets-

and jaehyo will laugh, because he’s seen s what jiho looks like before he’s about to go to bed, he’s ruffled his messy dreadlocks and made fun of his baggy hello kitty t-shirt, and at this point nothing about his dongsaeng will scare or even slightly intimidate him anymore, not the ruthless way he gets during competitions or the truly horrendous cooking (“don’t worry, hyung, this time I’ll cook the ramen!” “JIHO! NO!”) that has them all searching for the fire extinguisher and the phone number for the Chinese takeout place next door. 

they’re babies, all of them, kyung when he walks around outside with his scary white facemask on and jihoon when he’s crying over dramas, but to jaehyo, jiho is the biggest baby of them all, and jaehyo knows that he’ll always have a weakness for him, a corner of his heart that is softer than all the rest, and a part of his mind that’s usually reserved for the important things like his parents and Mongsonnie and Samsoon and occasionally A-Pink’s new singles.

(he still likes Son Naeun, no one else can come close to her dainty perfection,  but he started getting starting to scared now  because he’s beginning to like jiho _more_ ).

he especially likes to tell this story when they’re both sitting on the couch together, pressed close enough that jaehyo can feel the warmth of jiho through his thin cotton t-shirt and the house is pretty quiet and they’re both trying to fall asleep. jiho is almost immediately nods off to sleep after the first few minutes of listening to his cool, rhythmic cadence, and jaehyo likes to continue just along, hoping that some of what he’s saying will make it into jiho’s dreams tonight, as he stays up watching the vibrant Seoul skyline from their apartment and wishing that he could see the stars like he could, ages ago, back when he was living with his parents in Busan, and not just the smog infested skies that shadow seven different ugly, tired boys trying to make it big in this unforgiving city.

he softly threads his fingers through jiho’s choppy bleached blond hair, and tries to remember.

it's dark, almost midnight, and jiho is _still_ in the studio.

jaehyo heaves a deep sigh, and taeil glares at him from the couch situated in the middle of their tiny apartment before going back resting his head on jihoon’s shoulder as they watch reruns of old k-dramas and share a bag of crispy shrimp chip. it’s past midnight,  nearly 1 am, and he’s resigned to the fact that he’s probably going to have to pick up their leader and drag him back home.

jaehyo glares back at the disgustingly sweet couple, watches taeil hand jihoon tissue after tissue to wipe away his tears as the main actress and her love interest are separated and watches jihoon cling onto taeil for “emotional support” while the elder looks more than a little pleased with himself,  but nevertheless tugs on his stylish leather boots and pulls on his winter coat before grabbing his cell phone and headphones and shutting the door, regretfully stepping out into the freezing darkness and in the direction of the 7 seasons recording studio. grumpy though he pretends to be at the thought of picking up their overworked leader in the middle of the brutal winter evening, secretly, he enjoys these little moments of vulnerability, when jiho has dozed off in the middle of rewriting a verse and little dribbles of drool start to seep onto his notebook papers or when he has to carry him on his back because he's sore from sitting down in the same place for hours on end, and when they finally get home to their tiny dorm, jiho rewards him with a dopey smile and the faintest brush of fingertips against his cheek before passing out on the nearest comfortable surface and jaehyo has to drop him into his bunk as gently as he can.

his favorite part (and he will probably admit this to no one) is when jiho asks him for ideas. he remembers fondly now, while he’s plugging his white headphones into his cell phone and running through his handy play list of a-pink songs, the times jiho has feels comfortable enough to ask him to sing him a verse or two, never making fun of him for his occasionally off-key singing or the faint tremor in his voice that he attributes stage fright that he still hasn’t grown out of. sometimes they all forget that he’s only the second youngest member in the group, but in the moments stolen between midnight and 3 am jaehyo sees the real woo jiho, frantically creative, bursting with relentless ambition, exhausted, overworked, brutally honest, and most importantly, genuine. it’s so hard to see this jiho, goofy art school jiho, who draws inane caricatures of the manager-hyung in the margins of his spiral notebook when his hand is too tired to write notes or lyrics anymore, that jaehyo almost doesn’t mind the long walk in the middle of the night, his legs’ muscle memory taking him in the right direction while he zones out listening to No No No for only the millionth time this year.

shuffling, he drags his feet on the pavement because he knows that u-kwon is once again going to get most of the backup vocal lyrics once again, knows that he probably deserves them more because nobody works harder than yukwon, between all of his dance rehearsals and early morning voice lessons, but as he puts out his last cigarette (a terrible habit, he’s picked it up recently and the manager-hyung has already screamed at him about it and told him that the last thing this needs is another bad publicity scandal, but well, he hasn’t seen his parents in the last seven years and jiho’s usually too exhausted to comfort _him_ in the middle of the night when the tears starting pouring from seemingly out of nowhere, so burning his lungs up with tar is going to have to suffice) , he realizes that he doesn’t hold any of this against jiho like he used to at brand new stardom; instead, he feels happy just to lend a hand in any way that he can, whether it’s singing a simple c scale or letting jiho bounce some of his ideas off of him, as long as some of the premature wrinkles forming on jiho’s brow diminish, even a little. he realizes that he can be like the super absorbent kitchen sponge to jiho’s Niagra Falls of creativity (jiho explained this too him, late one night when they were both a little sleep drunk and tipsy, something about how his mind is an overwhelming faucet that he can never seem to turn off, no matter what the time or day it is, and while he went on and on about the ideas frantically pouring out, covering his mind with explosive waves and leave little room for him to do any breathing, all jaehyo really remembers is the way his lips looked nice covered in cherry syrup, and how he wanted nothing more than to kiss of their light pink stain-)

jaehyo freezes.

how did he go from thinking about absurd metaphors about ideas cascading from his dongsaeng’s electric brain in messy waves to thinking about  his lips? did all of his passionate hand waving and frantic erasing and rewriting until the white board hanging off the wall is almost ready to fall off and the papers underneath his hands are begging to be uncrushed and have their numerous wrinkles smoothed out… accidentally made jaehyo fall in love with him?

he coughs abruptly, sputtering a little, and accidentally runs into an old lady who sends him a disapproving glare for dashing the  vegetable basket resting in her arms, but before he can even stutter out a weak apology, she’s gone and he’s left preoccupied with this sudden realization. in all of those months when he unknowingly leant his steady and simple nature to contain the volcano busting at the center of his dongsaeng, he accidently let himself fall into the lava, drowning in all the nervous energy that he once patiently helped soothe with shoulder massages and half empty boxes of cheap takeout. he feels sick for a moment, a little bit nauseated, and just when he thinks he’s going to have to sit down for a little bit-

jiho opens the door.

they collide, face to face almost, and jaehyo is a little off balance, a little unsteady, and wobbles on his feet as jiho reaches out to support him. there’s a flickering glass lamp illuminating the outside corridor of the recording studio door, and it seems that jiho has beat him to the punch this time. he’s already all bundled up, earmuffs and scarf leaving only his crinkly eye-smile and cheekbones rubbed red by the wind visible to jaehyo’s eyes, and before he knows what he’s doing, before he can even hear jiho’s protest of “hey, hyung, what are you _doing_?”, jaehyo grabs him into a hug. their combined body heat makes jiho stop flailing, momentarily, and before he can force himself to think about his actions too much, jiho is hugging him back, first cautiously wrapping one arm, and then the next, around his petite midsection, and then finally burrowing his face in jaehyo’s puffy jacket, as if these things were the most natural instincts in the world to him.

when jaehyo pulls away, jiho has a contented, half-sleepy, half-dopey smile on his face, eyelids relaxed and shoulders starting to droop from the release of tension, and jaehyo leans down so that they are really, really close. their noses brush, and before jiho can say anything about all of the passerbys crossing the street or the fact that it’s _cold, jesus, hyung, I’m freezing,_ and push him away, jaehyo leans in and brushes their lips together. he can’t resist it, can’t resist the innocent way that jiho startles for a second before coming to drape his hand over his shoulder, and he wants nothing more than to place both his hands on jiho’s hips and repeat what has been a very successful, albeit terrifying experiment. jiho pulls back and looks at him. jaehyo knows that he’s had girlfriends in the past, girls with curvy legs and bodacious thighs, beautiful waistlines and mesmerizing smiles, and what chance did he have with his bony hands and lanky shoulders? maybe he should have just waited it out forever, just brought his donsaeng home and gone to sleep and instead waited for a million more years, another shooting star-

until jiho is leaning into him again. he’s passed some sort of test, he knows it, by the way jiho’s hands curl into his jacket and pull him downwards once again-

and they kiss. they kiss a lot more. jaehyo does something interesting with his tongue, and when jiho pulls away, embarrassed, face heating up, jaehyo can’t help but laugh and ruffle his hair.

they walk home together, holding hands shyly as jaehyo brushes jiho’s smaller thumb with his own. it’s snowing now, tiny flecks getting into their hair and all over their clothes, and jaehyo leans downward to kiss some away from jiho’s eyelashes as they make their way back home in the direction of their apartment. the sun will be rising over the horizon soon, and they will have to get up and rush onto schedules and voice training and fan signings and the dreaded dance practices, but when they finally get home, when jaehyo finally tucks a sleepy woo jiho and tries to hide his smile as a demanding hand tugs him underneath the covers with him, jaehyo knows that he won’t need the cancer sticks anymore. he knows that there is no reason to be unhappy or miserable anymore, aside from a few sore muscles or mild annoyance at being filmed without wearing his pants. he always felt like he was losing his home, and now, when he wraps his gangly arms around his much shorter donsaeng’s cuddle body, he can drift off into sleep almost immediately, savoring the feeling of finally finding his home again.


End file.
